Masks and Prejudice
by quixoticbelle33
Summary: Christine Bennet loves music but fears pursuing her dreams in the face of society's expectations. Erik Darcy appears arrogant and frightening, but what can Christine really see of him through that mask? And don't forget Raoul Wickham!
1. Prologue: Quite a Stir

Author's Note: This is a combination of Pride and Prejudice and the Phantom of the Opera. As the characters are hybrids, they are not OOC because their characters actually don't exist. So I can do whatever I want! MWHAhAHAHA! This does not mean I will have Erik wearing pink and dancing among daisies, it just means he is not canon. Darcy isn't canon. Because Erik!Darcy is one being!

**Furthermore, I am not Jane Austen. I am not Gaston Leroux. I have my own writing style. I intend to steal their ideas and ruin them with my crappy writing, and that's that (well, actually I hope NOT to do that, but you get my point).**

**So, now that I'm done being defensive and paranoid, enjoy.**

**P.S. My title is dreadful. Help me. Ok, now enjoy.**

"I detest these parties, Charles."

"Ha! I know you are not one to concern yourself with etiquette, but these are to be my neighbors. I cannot very well begin my time here by refusing so genial an invitation!" Mr. Bingley said as he adjusted his waistcoat and smiled at his reflection.

"Your neighbors. Precisely." Sneered his icy companion. "My presence is neither required nor requested."

Mr. Bingley laughed pleasantly, "On the contrary! I have asked you to attend. You designed my excellent new home and must allow yourself to take some public credit. And do not forget that your extraordinary wealth has made you something of a celebrity. Your presence will cause quite a stir."

Erik Darcy reluctantly turned towards the mirror and focused his yellow eyes squarely on the black cloth upon his face. "That," he murmured, "is exactly what I fear."


	2. A Grand Entrance

Christine Bennet tapped her foot rapidly, keeping perfect time with the lively, leaping beat. She did not notice the swirling dancers, boisterous laughter, or gay conversations. Music consumed her senses. Something was off, she was sure of it. She strained her ears and stretched her neck in a vain attempt to somehow hear above the carefree guests, but she could not quite distinguish the instrument that so offended her ear.

Suddenly Meg Lucas plopped down beside Christine and clasped her hand, shaking her from her fierce concentration. Pushing away her initial annoyance, Christine turned towards her friend with an expectant smile.

"Look at Lydia's partner!" Meg exclaimed. "He's at least twice her age."

Christine laughed, watching her younger sister giggle flirtatiously, "Twice her age and nearly twice her height! How ridiculous! No matter, she'll be through with him in another dance or so. You know she can't bear less than five partners a ball."

"Of course, silly me. Come now, Chrissy. We mustn't let Lydia have all – oh…"

Meg's voiced trailed off as her eyes shifted from the dance floor to the main door, through which an intriguing party had passed. In fact, these new arrivals had captured the attention of most of the gawking, gaping guests.

Two lovely women headed the noble parade, both attractive and repulsive in their refinement, beauty, and obvious arrogance. Their white necks, fine silks, and stunning jewelry spoke volumes of great wealth just as their pursed lips and harsh eyes told of affected boredom and self-importance. They smirked and exchanged glances, obviously pleased that such commoners found their presence so fascinating.

Three men followed the women, each dressed in equally fine attire. The first, a heavy man with lazy eyelids, appeared to be the oldest and dullest of the group. A handsome young man stood next to him, smiling so broadly and so genuinely that he seemed separate from the rest, a foreigner to pretension. However, it was the final man who truly stood apart.

He possessed the majestic air of nobility and moved his long, thin frame with grace and ease. His neat black hair contrasted sharply with pale skin, which in turn set off the black mask upon his face. The mask, covering all but the stern scowl of his mouth and chin, enhanced the impression of unquestionable power that radiated from this strange gentleman. Unseen, his long white fingers curled into an anxious, trembling fist at his side.

The party moved elegantly to a corner of the room as Mr. Lucas, the host, bustled nervously to greet them. The other guests returned to their merrymaking, gossiping and whispering excitedly as they danced and ate, often casting curious glances at the haughty strangers.

Christine squeezed Meg's hand, "Who on earth are they?"

"They are the incredibly wealthy Mr. Bingley, his sisters, and his brother-in-law. Bingley is the amiable young man who dared to smile. He has just moved from London to the Netherfield estate."

"To that new house on the hill?"

"The very one."

"And the masked man? Who is he?"

"That is Mr. Darcy," Meg paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "He designed Bingley's house, I believe. He's even wealthier than his friend. It's said that he owns half of Derbyshire."

"And the mask, Meg? Surely that's a bit ridiculous. Is he eccentric?" Christine scoffed, "Perhaps he feels himself too important to show his face among us simpletons."

Meg drew Christine closer and whispered, "No one quite knows about that mask, but they say… they say he's a monster."


	3. Not Handsome Enough to Tempt Me

**Author's Note: Look! I slipped in Jane Austen's famous line! Cheers to me! In fact, I stole several of her lines. So really, cheers to her. And to you if you've picked them out!**

**Thank you to all my kind reviewers – I hope not to lag behind in updates, but school beckons…**

Christine shifted her gaze to the masked man in the corner. He stood erect, his mouth set in a grim line. _Monster? _ Christine mused, studying the poise in his stance and the sharp accents of his mask. That mask surely indicated disfigurement of some sort, but "monster" seemed too harsh a word for a man with so appealing a form. However, nothing in his self-important air wholly disputed the charge…

"Don't be absurd, Meg," Christine scolded. "You know how people exaggerate."

Meg raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Exaggeration finds its basis in some truth. But no matter, look! Mr. Bingley is speaking with Jane!"

Jane Bennet, the beauty of both the family and the region, blushed demurely as Mrs. Bennet presented her to the new arrivals. Mr. Bingley grinned, but his sisters scowled at the sight. Blond hair and blue eyes could not compensate for inferior circumstances. On the other side of the room, Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes. His wife would be planning the wedding before the night's end.

"Chrissy! Come and meet our newest neighbors!" Mrs. Bennet cried, gesturing enthusiastically for her daughter's presence. Christine left Meg with a wry smirk and took her place at Jane's side.

"Mr. Bingley, this is Christine, my second eldest. My middle girl, Mary, is with her father other there, and my two youngest, Kitty and Lydia, are off dancing just there."

Bingley smiled and bowed politely. "It's a pleasure to become acquainted with your lovely family," he raised his voice slightly, "Isn't it, Darcy?"

Mr. Darcy jerked his head towards Bingley in alarm, but quickly regained enough composure to stride to his friend's side and bow, murmuring, "A pleasure."

The musicians ended their song, and Mr. Bingley offered Jane his arm, "May I have the honor of the next dance?"

Jane's lovely pink lips parted into a soft smile, "Yes, I would be delighted."

Christine watched the two approach the dance floor, envious of their obvious attraction and compatibility. Mrs. Bennet, beyond delight, decided to test just how many daughters she could pair off in one evening. After all, it is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

"Do you dance, Mr. Darcy?" she chirped.

"Not if I can help it," he replied gruffly. His harsh tone could not conceal a very strange beauty in his deep voice. Christine stared curiously, taken aback by the sound, and noticed that his eyes could scarcely be seen in the dark recesses beneath his mask.

Mrs. Bennet did not falter, "Well surely you don't wish to stand alone all night with such lovely young ladies in your midst. My Jane may be the prettiest, but Chrissy certainly…"

"I thank you, Madame, but I do not care to dance," Mr. Darcy turned abruptly on his heel and walked away, retreating through a maze of merry revelers.

"Well!' Mrs. Bennet cried indignantly, "Have you ever seen such a proud, disagreeable man! I wouldn't have you dance with him had he begged!"

"Oh yes, Mama, I'm sure his fortune is of no consequence at all," Christine said, sarcasm lacing her words.

"Certainly not! Fancies himself too good for my daughter… I never!"

Christine stifled a laugh and patted her mother's hand, reminding her to be satisfied with Jane's worthy partner. She returned to Meg, and the two remained together for much of the evening, talking and observing. Christine did not particularly mind that the scarcity of young men denied her a dancing partner, but Meg, a plain girl approaching the later half of her 20s, soon grew irritated and impatient. She constantly requested a new bench or a new corner in the hopes of attracting fresh male attention. In the midst of such a pursuit, Christine and Meg found themselves overhearing an unhappy conversation between Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy.

"Come now, Darcy!" Mr. Bingley scolded. "I won't have you standing here in this stupid fashion the entire night! I must insist that you dance!"

"It is enough that I came at all, which in itself is an unforgivable error on my part. I will not dance. I prefer to remove myself from the eyes of gawking fools, thank you. Even had I wished such a diversion, this tone-deaf violinist makes all enjoyment impossible," Disgust laced Mr. Darcy's exquisite voice.

_Ah! Of course! The violin! _Christine quickly remembered her own irritation.

"You should not judge so harshly. I have never found such pretty or agreeable girls in all my life!"

"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room."

Mr. Bingley beamed, "Oh, Jane is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But come now, look there, just behind you. Her sister, Christine, is quite pretty."

"She's fairly tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me," Mr. Darcy observed coolly. "And you cannot seriously expect _me_ to measure another's worth by their appearance, Bingley. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me. I refuse to make myself ridiculous."

_It is deformity, then, _Christine thought, slowly absorbing both this conclusion and Mr. Darcy's fresh insult.

Meg gasped, "Oh, pay that pompous man no mind, Chrissy!"

Christine eyed Mr. Darcy with renewed dislike, "Don't worry, Meg. I hardly need his approval, and I daresay I never will."


	4. Her Voice

Hours passed. The crowded, animated ball melted into comfortable, lazy conversation as guests gradually said their farewells and journeyed home. The Bennets remained at Lucas Lodge, for Mrs. Bennet was not one to risk missing any fresh gossip. Jane's presence seemed to have glued Mr. Bingley to the spot as well, and the two chatted softly and shyly – much to Mrs. Bennet's delight.

The middle Miss Bennet, Mary, soon took it upon herself to completely destroy the pleasant atmosphere. She sat before the pianoforte with an expression of solemn dignity and began to play. Despite persistent practice, Mary's lifeless voice collapsed tonelessly in her listeners' ears as her fingers plodded heavily across the keys. Much to the agony of all, she tortured not one song but three. Pained both by her sister's humiliation and the dreadful sound, Christine hurried to Mary's side before the beginning of a forth butchery.

"Thank you, Mary! Do let me have a turn, or I shall feel cheated," Christine gently nudged her sister aside, stifling any protest with music. Christine played only to repair Mary's damage and slip into the background, for she recognized the absence of genius in her pleasant voice and refused to indulge in dreams of true recognition. Her soft, simple song soothed the guests back into light conversation and sleepy peace, just as she hoped.

Yet one guest was not calm. Unnoticed in a dark corner of the room, Mr. Darcy stood rigidly, his right fingers digging into his palm as his left played a phantom piano upon his thigh. As Christine's voice ascended into a rich conclusion, he sank back against wall, breathing heavily. He did not applaud.

Mr. Bingley appeared at his side, "Come now, Erik! Even a musical snob like yourself can show some appreciation for the girl's efforts. I think she's quite good. Far better than her sister."

"You cannot compare her to that bleating fool," Mr. Darcy breathed gruffly. He straightened and met Mr. Bingley's gaze. "We have been among these people long enough. I am leaving, with or without you."

"Did you think that I disturbed your lurking in the shadows for my own amusement? My sisters wish to go nearly as much as you and sent me to fetch you. I don't understand any of you. I have never met a more pleasant sort of people in all my life."

"It is merely a question of standards," Mr. Darcy replied as the two approached the Mr. Lucas. He glanced toward the pianoforte only to find it unoccupied. Then what voice rang in his ears?

The party said their farewells and made their exit with little extravagance. Their departure ignited a fire of fresh gossip.

"Such a handsome man!"

"…lovely sisters…"

"…that Darcy fellow."

"He's odd enough without the mask."

Christine sat next to her father, shaking her head. "Mother will be here all night if you do not take swift action."

Mr. Bennet laughed and patted Christine's hand. "Oh, give her a few more moments of glory. Poor Jane. She won't have peace until she marries Bingley."

"None of us will. But he does seem to like her."

"He seems a good boy. His friend, however…"

"I admit I've never hated a man so quickly. How could Mr. Bingley befriend such a cold man?"

"Perhaps Bingley is too friendly for his own good. Ah, but you certainly are the kindest soul tonight. Thank you for rescuing Mary – or rather for rescuing her audience."

"I assure you my actions were completely selfish. I hoped only to save myself," Christine said with a grin.

"I'm glad you did, my dear. Now say goodbye to Meg and fetch your sisters. I long for home."


	5. Dinner Conversation

**A/N: Update at last! Sincere thanks and apologies to all readers and reviewers. I hope the time gap hasn't pushed you away from the story for good! Here's a fairly long chapter in apology!**

**I also hope my cheating with the point-of-view won't put you off either. I stay in third-person, but I just can't resist getting inside Erik's head! It's the easy way out, I know, but so much fun! **

**Hee hee, I like this chapter.**

…………….

The letter arrived as the Bennets shared breakfast the next morning.

"Miss Bingley has invited me to tea," Jane said, glancing towards Christine with startled eyes and a scarlet blush. "With an advanced apology for the absence of her brother, who will be out."

Mrs. Bennet's joyous response to the first bit of news turned swiftly to annoyance, "Out! Have you ever heard such a thing!"

"Yes, dear, I'm afraid I have. It's actually quite a common concept, to leave one's home when one wishes," Mr. Bennet replied before biting into his toast with satisfaction. "I've often thought that I myself should explore the option more extensively."

"Oh, Mr. Bennet!" his wife cried. "Well, you'll go just the same, Jane. Show those sisters what a well-mannered girl you are."

Jane flashed a nervous glance at Christine, "Do you think they mean to…examine me?"

Christine patted her hand, "If they do, what flaw could they find?"

"None at all, I say!" said Mrs. Bennet with a curt nod. "You are perfect, as they will soon see! Now hurry, get dressed properly. Wear a coat – you will be going on horseback."

"Horseback! Can't I take the coach?" Jane replied incredulously.

"Certainly not! Now go! Wear your new blue gown, dear, the one that sets off your eyes."

Jane obeyed without further protest, but Christine took up her fight, "Mother, what do you mean by sending her on horseback? It will rain!"

"And dear Jane will be forced to spend the night! I'll not have her go to Netherfield and not see Mr. Bingley." Mrs. Bennet said firmly.

And her scheme succeeded – in part. It did rain, and Jane was forced to stay at Netherfield, but in bed, with a dreadful cold. The thought of her ailing sister in a strange house with two remarkably unpleasant women appalled Christine, and she announced her intention to walk to Netherfield (for the convenient rain had gone away as though aware that its job was done) and attend Jane until she was well enough to return home.

Bingley's sisters, not exactly pleased by the need to temporarily shelter the first Bennet, were even more put out by the arrival of the second. Christine offended them further with her flushed face and muddy hem, evidence of her walk. Mr. Bingley, on the other hand, was delighted to have her and touched by her devotion to her sister.

But none was as affected by her arrival than Mr. Erik Darcy. He had been the first to encounter Christine's charming pink cheeks as she approached Netherfield, and though he lead her to the drawing room with scarcely a word between them, he could not get her voice out of his head. This alone had both shamed and confused him, but her actual presence increased his troubled musings beyond comprehension. If only she had never sung! If only her eyes weren't quite so fine, so full of lively intelligence…

But no! Rather than dwell on these thoughts, he did all he could to drive them out: riding, fencing, business, music, etc. Yet he could not avoid her forever. His absence at dinner for two consecutive would by declared unusual, even for a man of solitary habits such as he. He could not bring attention to his behavior, and despised speculation about his actions in all situations. So on the second night of Christine's stay, to dinner he went.

……….

"How is Miss Bennet this evening?" Ms. Bingley asked as Christine sat down to dinner.

Though the shadows surrounding her eyes seemed to answer well enough, Christine replied, "Not much better, I'm afraid. I am sorry for our lengthy intrusion, but she cannot yet be moved."

"Nonsense!" cried Mr. Bingley. "There is no need for such apologies. We're delighted to have you both. I only wish Miss Bennet was well for her own sake."

"Thank you," Christine replied with genuine gratitude, "You've been very good to her." She smiled, amusing herself with the thought that his outpouring of generosity had not come solely from common geniality. Mr. Bingley cared for Jane, she was sure of it now. Two days of his doting and concern indicated nothing else.

"Are you gracing us with your presence this evening, Mr. Darcy?" teased Mr. Bingley as his friend pulled his chair forward. "How very good of you."

"I had business to attend to last night. My apologies," snapped Mr. Darcy, the sharpness in his voice betraying his words. Had it not been for the mask, his facial expression would have done the same.

"Yes, '_business'_ that occupied you all of today as well." Remarked Miss Bingley, drawing out her words in the fashion of the self-important. She forced a laugh. "Pounding away at your piano, no doubt."

When Mr. Darcy did not reply, Christine let her curiosity shape her words. "Are you a musician, Mr. Darcy?"

Erik glanced at her quickly, startled to be the object of her address, "I am."

"He plays much better than he converses," Mr. Bingley quipped. Mr. Darcy rewarded his wit with a grimace, but Mr. Bingley was unfazed. "Luckily for us, you possess talent for both, Miss Bennet. I think even Mr. Darcy was impressed by your performance, for I heard him playing the very same song just the other day. Ms. Bennet is remarkable, isn't she, Darcy?"

This statement received an even more deadly glare than the first. Mr. Darcy composed himself and replied with icy brevity, "The only thing remarkable about Miss Bennet's performance was the astounding level of mediocrity."

Christine bristled. She acknowledged her own musical failings, but surely no one had the right to criticize her so cruelly, especially a man who hardly knew her or her talent. "That seems quite a paradox, sir. I fail to see how mediocrity can be remarkable in any way. Surely if I was that bland, you would not remember it at all."

"I think it is only memorable because of your vast potential to seem extraordinary, following an act such as your sister's."

How dare he insult her sister! "I'm sorry to have let such a rich opportunity by. If only you had emerged from your shadows to delight the party with your genius. But I suppose your music, like your face, is too good to be revealed to common country people."

Immediately Christine sensed that mentioning the mask had been a grievous error. The room froze. Even Miss Bingley, for one moment, looked more shocked than smug. Finally Mr. Darcy spoke, his even voice laced with acid.

"Yes, I'm afraid that particular party wouldn't have fully _appreciated_ all of my _finer_ qualities. I am not one to exploit myself for the amusement of others. Excuse me, I've lost my appetite." With graceful speed, he rose, bowed, and was gone.

Christine stared into her soup, half pleased by her victory (for if he fled, hadn't her cleverness prevailed?) and half appalled by her lack of sensitivity. She'd stomped purposefully on a sore subject. Though she didn't care about his sisters, she hoped she hadn't lost the good opinion of Mr. Bingley. Jane would be so ashamed.

But Mr. Bingley's shock had turned to slight amusement, "Excuse him, Miss Bennet. He needs a good verbal lashing every once in a while, but you're one of the few brave enough to give it to him."

"Yes, well, I do think…I was a bit…I'm sorry to disrupt the evening," she managed.

Mr. Bingley laughed, "If not for such 'disruptions,' we would die of boredom. Please destroy our tranquility any time."

Christine grinned, "Thank you. I will."


	6. The Proposition

Mr. Darcy remained absent for the rest of the evening, and Christine soon abandoned remorseful thoughts regarding their interchange. She hadn't truly said anything too atrocious. She was provoked. And certainly, he was a stubborn, haughty man. She couldn't fathom why her opinion could mean anything to someone who so clearly considered her an insignificant simpleton. So she forgot him for the evening and focused on her present companions.

She found the occupation just as disheartening as she had the evening before.

Mr. Bingley remained the only pleasant member of the party, with his kind words and open nature. His sisters did not improve upon closer acquaintance; rather, they proved themselves to be just as ridiculously proud and snobbish as they had appeared at Lucas Lodge, if not more so. Caroline Bingley, the younger, surpassed her married sister, Mrs. Louisa Hurst, for she was not only arrogant but also vicious, deceptive, and manipulative. More than once, she attempted to lure Christine into an insult or humiliation that while feigning friendly curiosity. After generously acknowledging Miss Caroline's beauty and intelligence, Christine proceeded to despise her immensely.

Mr. Hurst was merely a blob upon the sofa that once or twice offered a comment of supreme simple-mindedness. He was ignored by all.

Christine spent the majority of that evening willing Jane to recover quickly. After a painful hour, she deemed her obligation to act the mannered guest fulfilled and excused herself. It took all of her self-control to resist running from the room.

_Oh, Jane,_ she mused, _if you do win Mr. Bingley – and you are well on your way – I do not envy you your in-laws!_

Then she turned a corner, and all thoughts vanished under a crushing flood of music. Though distant, the notes commanded her full attention and led her automatically forward, toward the unseen piano and its master. And such a master! To coax such emotion from keys and pedals, to fuse sorrow and beauty so completely! Christine longed to stand in the center of such music, to feel the vibrations of the impassioned chords, but as she drew closer, she found herself face-to-face with…a door. A very shut door.

Ah, but curiosity had always been her greatest fault. By a lucky miracle, the handle moved under her eager fingers, allowing the door to swing forward into an elegant ballroom; but just as Christine finally achieved her objection, the music ceased.

Mr. Darcy turned only his head, observed Christine's dazed expression, and sneered, "May I assist you in any way, Miss Bennet? Point you in the direction of your room, perhaps?"

Christine blinked, recovering her voice, "No, I…I know quite well where I…was that really you playing, just then?"

"I sit here alone in front of a piano. Draw your own conclusions," he returned his gaze to the instrument, a sleek black grand piece of artwork that shamed everything Christine had ever seen before. He reminded himself to scold Charles yet again for lacking a proper music room, with proper locks.

"Was the piece your own?"

Erik stiffened, "Yes. I hope this ends your line of inquiry."

"But that was incredible!" Christine exclaimed, hardly hearing his second remark. So he truly was a genius!

"Thank you. Goodnight."

"Oh, don't dismiss me just yet," Christine protested, hurrying toward the piano. "I've never seen such an instrument."

Mr. Darcy leapt to his feet as she came closer. This girl seemed intent on testing his limits. Had she no respect for his privacy?

"May I?" Christine asked, her long fingers already spread across the glowing ivory keys. After a moment with no response, she began to play a simple but pretty piece, humming along unconsciously.

"Miss Bennet, I must request that you leave me in peace," Mr. Darcy very nearly growled.

"Are my musical endeavors really so offensive to you? You are, to my knowledge, the first." _Beside myself,_ Christine added silently. She remained seated.

Mr. Darcy began to pace stiffly beside the piano. "In truth, it is not that you play and sing particularly poorly, it is that you have squandered such potential to be great."

Christine glanced up at him with raised eyebrows, "Oh? Have I?"

"Yes. It's quite a waste. Now, _goodnight._"

Christine did not stir, "Sir, you can not truly expect me to be satisfied with so vague a criticism." She considered for a moment, then added, "Perhaps you can make yourself useful instead."

Mr. Darcy, whose fingers had begun to curl into tightly clenched fists of restraint, stopped his pacing. Christine hastily continued, "You are obviously a musician of no small skill."(He scoffed at this. Indeed!)"Perhaps you can…teach me. Improve me, as it were."

What an absurd idea! Ridiculous, the thought of spending excess time with this insolent child! Yet, how wonderful it would be to hear that soft voice bloom under his guidance! London would kneel before her radiant talent. And when she sang, she would sing for him…no! No such horrible, half-hopeful thoughts!

Christine marveled at her nerve. Had she really just asked this near stranger to tutor her? And _this_ stranger, too! A misanthropic snob, who simply happened to play music like a god. Her love for the art had taken her too far this time. Well, he would undoubtedly refuse, and then she would but leave the embarrassment behind…

"Yes, I would be willing to teach you," Mr. Darcy said evenly. "Better that than have my ears tortured again."

Christine gaped.

"But I would ask that the…lessons…be kept private. I do not wish to become an instructor for every brat in the country, thank you. We may begin tomorrow, when you have finished with your sister. Goodnight." With that matter-of-fact statement, Mr. Darcy bowed, turned on his heel, and walked swiftly from the room.

Christine stared blankly ahead. What had just happened? And then she laughed, for what else was there to do?

She continued laughing as she made her way out of the ballroom and through the corridor. And she may have chuckled longer, had she not run bodily into a mildly drunken Mr. Hurst.

"Oh! I'm very sorry, Mr. Hurst!" She exclaimed, jumping back.

"Were you speaking to Mr., Darcy in there?" he drawled, squinting as though in intense concentration.

"Yes, we were just –"

"I would advise you, Miss Bennet," Mr. Hurst interrupted sloppily, "not to spend too much time alone with Mr. Darcy. He's involved in some funny business, that man. He thinks I don't notice, with Charles making light of everything all the time. But people have disappeared, Miss Bennet, mark my words! And any man takes note of that!"

……..

**Yes, I updated again! Astounding, I know.**

**So, as you can see, the story has taken a phantomy turn. I am trying to use elements of both novels' plots and characters (such a batshit!Erik…hee hee), so here we go. After re-watching the 2005 P&P, I recalled the extent of plot and assortment of characters in Jane Austen's novel, and you'll just have to forgive me for not getting to it all. I think that at some point, this fic will kind of just follow its own path. It is fanfiction, after all, and a bit of a story in its own right, and I can't wait to completely abuse my creative license! **

**I even toyed with the idea of eliminated Mr. Collins, but he's just so hilarious and so much plot surrounds him (Lady Catherine!) that I can't. We'll see how he gets wedged in here somehow. **

**Thank you again for all your kind words! Here's an overdue response to some questions:**

**_Jedi Bubbles:_ I purposefully skipped the Mrs/Mr. Bennet bit about Bingley (alliteration! Yay!). I want to focus more on Erik and Christine and get to "the good parts," so to speak. And the Nadir/Bingley thought! ;) – If only, if only.**

**_MonMaskedAnge:_ I love that bit in the movie, too…but I didn't really want them to chat too much just then. I hope they're other snap-fests will satisfy you later!**

_Memory from a dream_: Aah, I'm glad you like the story, but I like my Eriks fugly (woot _Skeleton Horse_!)…so…forgive me and read anyway? puppy eyes

_Erik'sTrueAngel:_ He did know who, he just doesn't quite understand why it has affected him so…sorry if I was unclear!

_Under-my-Angel-of-Music's-wing: _What a great question, and one I wish I knew the answer to myself. The new movie was my first encounter with P&P, and it just had me swooning for days. And the BBC one is so wonderfully true to the novel and OMG wet!colinfirthdarcy! I could compare and debate the two forever…but both (and the novel!) have influence here.

**Argh, long A/N – apologies! P.S. Is it historically accurate to be using a piano here? I just can't see Erik behind a wimpy little pianoforte!  
**


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